All Good Things
by Cytherea4
Summary: Canon through the end of Hannibal; film version. What happens after? Where they find each other again, in unexpected ways. Rated T to be safe. I own nothing but the original characters. H/C. Complete!
1. Chapter 1: Clarice

Canon through the end of the film version of Hannibal. What happens after? Told from the view of both Hannibal and Clarice.

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Clarice_

After all she had been through, the FBI couldn't possibly get rid of her now. With Krendler, her main nemesis, gone, there was nobody left trying to stop her from advancing. They were, however, all terrified of her, and stayed away. Clarice didn't notice at first, but as soon as she did, her decision was made, and she left the FBI a few weeks after that. Work would never be the same. She didn't give anybody an excuse, but there was nobody to care. Sure, Jack Crawford tried to stay in touch with her, worried about her... but at a certain point, she knew she had to make a clean break. Jack had taken her to lunch once or twice to catch up, and that just couldn't happen now.

Clarice decided to get away from it all. She found a place in Vermont, away from anything to do with the government and her former life. The house was in a town with a decent amount of land but very few residents. Therefore, she was able to live in solitude- she was even able to get her groceries delivered, and avoid the mailman. She changed her number and left no forwarding address- although those in the FBI surely had the means to track her down, she knew that there was nobody who cared enough to do so.

As the months flew by, Clarice desperately tried to remember what happened between her discovery of Dr. Lecter in Mason Verger's barn and when she woke up to dinner with Krendler. She knew he had drugged her, knew that he had given her at least morphine, but other than that, she didn't know. She remembered the ceiling fan... a hallucination of a her lamb, watching over her, with his eyes... she remembered his presence, feeling his concern for her as he took care of her... but nothing more. What else did he give her? The tox. screen came back confirming only the morphine, but Clarice wasn't sure if she should believe it. And what else had happened? She was afraid to confirm her rapidly growing suspicion. Oh, the FBI sent her to a therapist of course, but the therapist said that the memories were repressed, most likely because of the trauma of the event, and that she would never recover them. She went further to say that it was best for the memories to stay that way. Nobody else would understand her desire and her longing to know the truth, so she never expressed it. She knew that an accredited hypnotherapist might be able to help, but she couldn't risk it. She couldn't risk anybody else knowing other than her and Dr. Lecter. Especially now, now that she had found herself a remote corner of the world to live in, where people didn't know who she was, didn't even give her a second glance. No, Clarice had found some sort of peace in this world, for the first time in her life, and no matter how strong her desire to know the truth, she wouldn't risk it for anything.

It didn't take long for the months to fly by.

Her breath hitched the first time she looked into his eyes. If she had any doubts (which she didn't), she couldn't possibly deny it any longer. The denial she had clung to so dearly was gone in a flash. Those eyes... eyes which had terrified and scared her, yet been a comfort at the same time... eyes that filled her dreams and her nightmares and in waking, popped into her head every time she closed her eyes or let her mind drift... eyes that had haunted her for so many years... were now gazing back at her in the face of the most beautiful baby she had ever seen... her beautiful, wonderful, perfect little baby boy.

His name came to her in a flash- Leonardo. It was fitting. From the Italian, meaning "lion-hearted," or "strong as a lion" ... the words just all seemed to work. "Lion," "strong," "brave" ... and it was a sophisticated name, too. Not very popular, yet one of the greatest Renaissance men to ever to live carried this name, one who was good at everything, intelligent, elegant, revered... and born in Florence. It was the fruits of his labor that so many still enjoyed there. Yes, that would be his name. She whispered it softly to him, and although she knew it wasn't possible for a baby so young, she swore she saw him look directly into her eyes and smile with approval.

The feelings that rushed over her when she held this dear newborn, her baby boy, her Leonardo, in her arms, was like nothing she had ever experienced. Being at the age that she was, she had regarded it highly unlikely she'd ever know the joy of having children. And even more than that, she had willingly given it up, the husband and children, for her life at the FBI, as Dr. Lecter so accurately once stated. She had foregone all thoughts of such a life, and when she become completely disillusioned with the FBI, she knew in her heart that it was already too late. There was no chance to try for any of that now. So holding Leonardo, watching him sleep peacefully, cradled in her arms, raising him to her breast for nourishment, was nothing short of a miracle, one that she knew she would relish every moment of. And without knowing it, the man who had haunted her for so long had given her the greatest gift possible. More than the advancement that she once coveted so desperately... and he had no idea he had done so.

The first person other than herself to really see her baby was the nurse who came for the information for the birth certificate. Immediately she commented on his exquisite eyes... a pale blue like she had never seen before. While the nurse cooed over the baby, Clarice realized that she hadn't quite thought out what she would put on the birth certificate. Not allowing herself to acknowledge the truth about his father until the very last second, she hadn't yet the chance to even think about it. She knew that some leave the space for the birth father blank, but she felt that doing so would be really quite insulting. Plus, "Leonardo Starling" just didn't sound right, not at all. No, he needed to have his father's last name... but she had to think about how to do it carefully. She sent the nurse away with the promise that she would fill out the paperwork before she was discharged from the hospital the next day.

She knew that her name would not raise any red flags. She had had Jack keep her up to date on if the Bureau was watching out for her, before she broke communications with him, and she was checking on it herself- the filing had been backed up, and since she hadn't been fired, she was able to access her accounts for a bit of time before they closed her out. No, her name would be fine. She wrote it in. She also wrote Leonardo's name in, but left the last name blank for a moment. Now she had to decide what to do about the father. "Lecter" was, in fact, a very rare name in the States, so she knew it would certainly be an issue. What she needed to know what how long she had before someone realized, alerted the FBI, and they began to investigate. Finally, she made a decision. At the end of Leonardo's name, she wrote "Lecter" with a flourish. And father, "H. Lecter." Dangerous, but it might give her some time with only the initial. She knew he wouldn't object. She had brought with her the paperwork to begin the process of getting the baby a passport, incase they needed to flee when this was investigated. She had an excuse, of course... she could always say that he raped her, but she preferred to not be available at all. She knew saying such a thing would be an unforgivable offense to him, and something she would never allow herself to do. She turned in the information to the hospital at the very last second, and went directly to the town hall to submit the information to get Leonardo a passport.

All was quite for a few months. Nobody in the neighborhood bothered her. Leonardo was a wonderful baby, and she loved him with all her heart. But now she suddenly felt the urge to get out of the country more strongly than ever. Leonardo was three months old; it was a year to the date since she had last seen Dr. Lecter, and she realized that she had to leave, had to go immediately. His passport had only just come in, perfect timing, and she booked a one-way flight to Heathrow. It was time Leonardo got to know where he came from, in a sense, and certainly time she herself experienced the place that influenced so much of who Dr. Lecter is.

Within in a few hours, she was packed, and on her way to the airport for the red-eye to Heathrow.

What Clarice didn't know was that the very next morning, the FBI would come knocking down her door.


	2. Chapter 2: Hannibal

_Hannibal_

The scene at the lake house proved to cause Hannibal some problems. He managed to find a surgeon unaware of who he was to sew his hand back on, and while the man did a decent job of it, there remained an unmistakable scar, like a permanent bracelet around his wrist. In an attempt to disguise it, he rubbed an expensive cream made from Vitamin E on his wrist every morning and every night to diminish the scar, and wore a wrist brace permanently to cover it. If anyone asked, he told them he had severe carpal tunnel syndrome and needed to wear it for support. It worked splendidly.

After fleeing the lake house and reattaching his hand, Hannibal picked another one of his aliases and boarded a plane to Japan. He stayed in Japan for a few months, where he heard the news that Clarice had turned in her badge and had resigned from the FBI. He wondered if they had forced her, or she truly wished to resign on her own. The answer to that question would be quite telling. The papers were unable to get any information from her about where she was going or what she would do now. He knew that he could, if he were inclined to do so, but it was too soon, far too soon, to call on Clarice again. She surely needed the time to herself, and he had his own pressing issues to deal with.

Japan proved to be much too much for Hannibal's rather delicate tastes. After giving it much thought, Hannibal decided that he could very soon return to Florence. The news of his being there came to the country only after he was long gone, and most of those who could identify him were dead. Of those that were not, they were of a very particular group, a small group, of scholars, whom he could very easily avoid, as he knew the locations they frequented- and as scholars, such places were scarce. The video footage of him from the tourist's camera the night he sent Commendatore Pazzi to the same fate as his ancestor was blurry. With a few minor alterations (including the addition of the wrist brace) and the avoidance of such locations, Hannibal was confident that he wouldn't be discovered if he returned to Florence.

This time, though, he would have to be much more cautious. Anyone in pursuit of him would think of Florence as the last place to look- for surely he was smart enough not to return there, especially so soon, if ever. He knew that would protect him- he'd be right under their noses, in the last place they'd ever look. But although Mason was dead, so the reward was no longer an issue, and Clarice was off the case, meaning that nobody in the FBI was actively pursuing him at the moment, it was still risky to return so soon.

It was for this reason that Hannibal decided to first spend a few months in the Tuscan countryside, going from villa to villa, entertaining his senses through delicious wine tastings and the splendid company of those enjoying the same pleasures. While embarking upon this mini-vacation, as he looked at it, he would be able to find himself a more permanent location to reside in.

And so he did. He very greatly enjoyed his time in the countryside after those horrid months in Japan. After much deliberation, Hannibal decided that it would be best to live slightly outside of Florence, somewhere quiet and less urban, where he could buy a house and be relatively left alone, yet able to go into the city whenever he pleased. He chose Fiesole.

Fiesole is a small town about 4 miles northeast of Florence, a very short bus ride will take you directly to anywhere in the city you'd like to go. Built on a hill, many of the houses are difficult to get to regardless of one's method of transportation, as everywhere is steep. But being at such a location, when the sky is clear, one has a fabulous view of the city below it. Hannibal found a place bigger than an apartment, but certainly not as expansive as a villa, on a hill in Fiesole. It was out of the way, not close to much at all, and gave him a distinct advantage- being so high up, he had a perfect view of the hillside and could see danger a mile away. Within minutes of procuring ownership, he fashioned multiple escape routes should the need arise, with various methods of transportation hidden in the locations (among these were some rather comical vehicles, such as a Vespa and a Smart Car). But for daily life, Hannibal preferred to take the bus or remain on foot. This allowed him to more thoroughly take in his surroundings and be prepared for anything.

Once that was taken care of, and a security system set in place with a rather inconspicuous camera to record the goings on while he was away, he set about the task of furnishing the house to his specificities. It had been a while since he was able to really make a place feel like home, and he relished in the task of doing so once again.


	3. Chapter 3: Clarice

_Clarice_

Once off the plane, Clarice immediately made her way to the train station. Knowing that they would assume she had some contact with Lecter, she didn't book a flight directly to Florence, and choose instead to fly into Heathrow and take the train. She knew they'd track her by her plane ticket to Heathrow, but after that, she planned to leave no trace. Every transaction would be in cash, and she would give fake names, if need be. She knew they were safe here in Florence. She had technically done nothing wrong, so the FBI had no recourse to find her. She just hoped beyond hope that Dr. Lecter himself wasn't in England, for she was pretty sure they'd be looking for him there. It was just a risk that she had to take.

But feeling safe was so much more than her knowledge that they wouldn't find her. Being here, in this place, that he had spoken so fondly of.... somehow, she felt his presence with her. Despite being in a foreign city, with no knowledge whatsoever of the language, and a newborn baby to take care of, she wasn't the least bit afraid or even nervous. He could be felt here, in everything. Where her eyes roamed, his had roamed. The smells as she walked through the street, the feel of everything she touched, the taste of every bite she ate, the sound that was distinctly and uniquely _Florence_... all of it, he had done before her. She felt him guiding her through the city, and she was not afraid.

She knew that he would never harm her. Once she confirmed that Leonardo was indeed his child, she was forced to admit to herself the part of her that she had so sternly pushed away for so many years. The desire that burned in her for him, the passion, the longing... the feelings that she had could not be denied anymore. Although she didn't remember it, she knew that he would never take advantage of her like that. In some way, it was more unspeakably ugly to him than him killing her would be. Somehow, given the loss of inhibition from the drugs, she must have confessed to him those hidden feelings that she had kept locked away even from herself. It did surprise her, slightly, that he didn't refuse her, knowing the state that she was in. But she was sure that there was some explanation, and she trusted him, even if she would never discover what it was.

The hotel she found was only a few minute walk to the Duomo. It was in an alleyway, a very out of the way location, and on the third floor of an old building with no elevator. It was perfect. The owners spoke very little English, but she was able to convey to them that they needed a room indefinitely. They were wonderfully accommodating and cooed over Leonardo in Italian, and were especially impressed when she told them his name. She was excited at the prospect of him learning both English and Italian- being bilingual was a feat she had never managed to concur, and she hoped that her son would have that natural talent from his father.

After settling in, paying two weeks advance for the room, showering and bathing Leonardo, and dressing them both in clean and fresh clothes, Clarice set out to explore the city.

As tempting as it was to go everywhere right away, she knew she had time here and wanting to explore everything fully. She couldn't keep the smile off her face as she traveled to the location that she always knew she had to see first- the Belvedere, or, more precisely, the view of the Duomo from said location.

Despite her lack of understanding of Italian, most Europeans are schooled in English, so it wasn't nearly as difficult as she imagined it would be to get directions. She took the bus to a point, and walked the rest of the way. Although she had vowed to herself never to do so, she found it necessary to buy a carrier to wear to hold Leonardo, and she was glad that she had. Despite her constantly being reminded of Evelda and her poor baby, it was the only alternative she had to holding him in her arms until he was grown. She didn't like carriages- being in the FBI, she was privy to just how many children are snatched from their parents in such things. Leonardo was her life, and she would never risk losing him, even if it meant reliving that painful memory.

As soon as she reached the Belvedere though, all thoughts of that fateful day disappeared. In her mind, she saw vividly the detailed drawing Dr. Lecter had in his cell the first time she met him... the one that he told her he had crafted entirely from memory. Right before her eyes that vision came to life, and she was breathless; awestruck. The scene was beautiful on its own, but she felt closer than ever to Dr. Lecter as she reveled in the marvel that he himself had marveled over.

She didn't know how long she had been standing there when Leonardo began to whimper out of hunger. It was only then that she realized that she, too, hadn't eaten. She was excited to enjoy her first meal in Florence; although she couldn't drink any wine yet, she knew Dr. Lecter's pension for food and was greatly looking forward to experiencing for herself some of the best food in the world.

Clarice had never in her life experienced such pleasant days. She took her time eating, so very rare in America, and spent hours at every church and museum she visited. She didn't even own a camera- she was adamant that she would commit everything to memory, just like Dr. Lecter. She walked everywhere, and because of it, didn't even feel the need to exercise as much as she was used to, other than a brisk jog every few mornings (and that was hard enough with a baby!). When she ate, she tried everything, even though she didn't know what any of it meant, and had gelato every night. She very slowly began to pick up on bits of the language here and there. She haggled with the street vendors and watched the artists painting the cobblestone at night with copies of the greats, and the opera singer that graced the streets every night with the most beautiful voice she had ever heard. She went into all the shops, especially the expensive ones, and thought about Dr. Lecter painstakingly choosing gifts for her from here- like the shoes from Gucci, and the dress she wore at the lake house, both of which she had taken care to bring with her; neither of which had ever worn again. She denied herself nothing, slowly building a wardrobe like one she could have only dreamed of... one she knew that he would approve of. She frequented the perfumeria where she had once seen Dr. Lecter himself building a perfume for her- albeit only on the black and white security tape footage- and had it recreated so she could wear it. It was really quite lovely.

She thought to herself that all of this would be an invitation. She remembered in embarrassment the words that she had spoken to him that night, and her actions that betrayed his trust. She recalled writhing against him as his lips met hers, and she battled the desire to kiss him back. Now, she wished she had. It was painful for her to acknowledge that she had most likely angered him to the point of disinterest- she truly doubted she would ever see him again. But if he did, somehow, find her, or come across her in an unexpected way, she hoped that he would smell that scent and realize that it was her way of not only apologizing for what had happened, but her way to inviting him in.

Leonardo was growing rapidly, as babies do, now 6 months old, and delighted in watching his every move. She felt more at home here in Florence than she had ever felt anywhere in her life, and every day she thanked Dr. Lecter, wherever he may be, for leading her to this place that was no less than a heaven on earth. And at least once every day, she took the bus up to the Belvedere and gazed upon the beauty that she considered home.


	4. Chapter 4: Hannibal

_Hannibal_

Although it was hard to stay away from the city, Hannibal spent the first few months of living in Fiesole doing just that- getting to better know the little town and familiarizing himself with everything about it. Before he knew it, it had been a full year since he departed the lake house, and Clarice. The scar on his wrist was certainly much lighter than it had been before, but he doubted he'd ever feel comfortable enough to go without the wrist brace in public. Very few ever had a hand severed and stitched back on, and he knew it would raise suspicion.

However, he wasn't concerned. The people of this town were quiet, and didn't care much for the news and current events. They preferred to live within the context of their ancient town, and so they did.

Hannibal decided that, it having been a year, he was ready to begin his search for Clarice. There was no real reason to contact her, but now that she was gone from the FBI, there was no real reason not to, either. In truth, he missed her.

His search proved much harder than he'd have imagined. It took him some time to track her down to the home in Vermont that was still under her name, and even longer to get her phone number. She had covered her tracks well. But nobody answered when he called, and he found that quite curious, after calling more than once and at varying times to see if it was actually her. He then had to start finding out about the location, making phone calls to the grocery store and the like to see if she actually lived there.

Finally, he caught a break. He called the post office, and was told that while her mail had not been forwarded, she hadn't been there in months. The mailman, apparently concerned when he saw her door broken in, called the local police, who found no trace of her in the house. She had just ...gone. They thought she may have been kidnapped and put out a missing persons report, but nothing had come of it.

As luck would have it, since Clarice kept to herself, and she didn't even interact with the mailman, nobody knew that she was even pregnant, let alone had had a child, and there was no trace of a child in the house. Her secret remained just that to all but the hospital staff and the FBI agents desperately tracking her down. And Hannibal had no reason to call the hospital, and no contacts in the FBI.

So where had she gone? Hannibal didn't believe for a moment that she had been kidnapped. He knew that the door being broken down was trademark FBI. She had to have known they were coming, got out before they found her. But for what? He hadn't been in touch with her, so it couldn't possibly be his fault this time, could it? He supposed she could have tried to contact him and it was intercepted by the FBI, but how could she have known to leave when she did? And where did she go? He found no other evidence of her in the states. No other properties or phone numbers in her name... he knew she must have left the country, but trying to track down a flight manifest from a few months ago would be hard enough even if she didn't change her name. Frustrated, Hannibal retired early.

The next morning, Hannibal decided that it was time for him to go back into the city. Spending some time at the Duomo and wandering the familiar streets with a nice glass of vino would surely be a welcome change from the life he'd grow accustomed to in Fiesole, and would distract him from the persistent thoughts of Clarice. He couldn't help but to be slightly concerned with the situation that had presented itself. Without hesitation, he dressed and was on his way.

But where to go first? He pondered only briefly before making a decision. Something was drawing him to the Belvedere, and he thought it fitting that his first venture into the city should begin with an overview of the city itself. Quite fitting indeed. But there was something else, too, some desire, some longing, to see the place that he had so detailed in his memory, because it reminded him of Clarice. Clarice who asked him about his drawing, who was so impressed by his memory, who had never been to Florence. It saddened him that she'd never the chance to visit his city, that he'd never take her by the hand and lead her around, showing her everything.

Before he knew it, he was at the Belvedere. He shut his eyes and inhaled before opening them to the site he knew would be before him. Something he had done many times, but this time, it was different. This time, he could smell... could it be? He could smell Clarice, but not just her usual scent... combined with the scent that he so assiduously hand-picked just for her. For the first time in his life, he doubted his sense of smell. For that just simply could not be, now, could it?

The scent was intoxicating. No longer could he stand to be still, he needed it to be confirmed or denied. Slowly, ever so slowly, he opened up his eyes.

It didn't take him long to find her. She was standing in the spot, the exact spot from which he envisioned himself as he drew the view before them so many years ago, as if she knew to be there. Even with visual confirmation, he still wasn't entirely convinced that she was real, that she was really there, and it wasn't some trick of his mind that he had so long worked to control. No, he deduced, he really did have control of his mind, more than most, probably more than anyone, and if he saw her, smelled her... he knew it had to be real.

He was desperate to touch her, to run his fingers through her hair, inhale her scent, but he knew he had to proceed cautiously. She wasn't FBI anymore, indeed, he was convinced she was on the run from them, but that didn't mean she wouldn't turn him in. But no, wait... that scent. How she could have possibly come into possession of it, he didn't know... but he knew what it meant. He smiled, slyly.

It was at that very moment that the wind shifted. Clarice turned slightly and brushed the hair out of her face, and he could see her side profile. It was the motion of her hair that brought to his attention what was on her back, other than the rather expensive clothes that she was now in possession of. Florence is treating her well, he thought, but studied the strange straps on her back. It looked like a backpack, as though she were wearing it backwards, with the pack on her front. This was something even 'white-trash' Clarice wouldn't do; he couldn't imagine her ruining such a fine outfit with a backpack at all, let alone one worn in such a unconventional way. He tilted his head out of curiosity.

Fate stepped in. The wind wasn't strong, but it was enough to cause Clarice a slight annoyance, so she pulled an elastic off her wrist and turned slightly to tie her hair back, revealing to all behind her the sleeping baby cuddled to her chest.

With Clarice no longer blocking the way, something stirred in Leonardo, and he woke up instantly. His eyes met the eyes of those from whence he came, silently staring straight back into his, unwavering.

Hannibal Lecter, the brilliant psychologist who could control his mind and his body beyond what was thought possible in a human, who attacked with only the use of his mouth and could prevail even when outnumbered, whose pulse never got above 85 even while eating a tongue out of another's head, felt his heart skip a beat.

In those eyes that locked with his, his own eyes staring back at him, Hannibal immediately understood everything. It all fell into place. Why Clarice left the FBI, why she took to that solitary place in Vermont, why the FBI came after her (it pleased him to think that she didn't deny the origins of their child), and why she had come here, to this place, to escape. The recognition in the baby's eyes was like nothing he had ever experienced before, and combined with the shock of seeing Clarice here in the first place, Hannibal was struggling to control the thoughts and emotions coursing through him. He thought he was in a place where nothing could shock him, and he found himself realizing just how wrong he was.

But now, another question. Whatever was he going to do about it?

He watched as Clarice gently stroked the baby's head, murmuring words too soft for him to hear, and she placed a kiss on his forehead before they took their leave. The gesture was simple, not uncommon for a mother to her child, but Hannibal had never seen this side of Clarice and he found himself satisfied and pleased by it, most especially because it was _his _child she was so tender with. Baby squirmed a bit when she began to move away; it was although he knew his father was there and didn't want to leave him. Clarice, however, seemed to be unaware of the cause of his actions, and continued on her way.

Once she was gone, Hannibal paused only momentarily, closing his eyes again until her scent had completely drifted away. His plans to go into the city long forgotten, he headed home. He had a lot to think about.


	5. Chapter 5: Clarice

_Clarice_

It had been three months now since she and Leonardo had first arrived in Florence, and Clarice knew that she planned never to leave. But after her lavish living, she knew she would have to find some work to do to make sure she was able to keep up with her expenses. It was because of this that she offered her assistance to the owners of the hotel in exchange for her stay. She did everything- she cleaned the rooms, helped prepare breakfast, and worked the front desk. It dismayed her, slightly, to think that after all she had accomplished, here she was, a chambermaid like her mother. She could hear the mocking tone in Dr. Lecter's voice as he mentioned it. But she found herself less than ashamed as time went on. In Europe, professions are much different, and this was a respectable one. The owners of the hotel were wonderful to work for, and she was able to provide for her son. The arrangement worked out just fine.

At six months old, Leonardo was fairly advanced for his age, something that Clarice always expected. He was already crawling, she had started to feel him solid food, and he babbled incessantly at her. She had started to use sign language with him while speaking. He was growing, longer, and heavier, and while it was amazing, it did cause some problems. The bed was too small for him to keep sleeping with her much longer, so she had to buy a bassinette. But the biggest problem was when she working. He was too active for her to carrying him on her while she worked, and too heavy to have his weight added to hers while she was cleaning. She had to find other methods to keep a close eye on him while she worked.


	6. Chapter 6: Hannibal

_Hannibal_

Hannibal found his first thoughts after this encounter with Clarice to be memories instead of the formulation of the plan. He wondered what, if anything, she remembered from her stay at the lake house. Hannibal meticulously cleaned her wound, after removing the bullet and stitching up the skin, and was careful to watch for infection. He kept her on morphine most of the time; recovering from something like this would be painful enough in a hospital with all the technology; here, it would be much, much worse. When he wasn't dealing with Krendler (which didn't really take up too much of his time, as he did use heavy sedatives on him), he was at her side. He sat in the chair next to her, watching her sleep. Sometimes, he held her hand, or gently caressed her skin, all the while inhaling her delicious scent. And he waited for the moments that she would wake up and interact with him.

Clarice was totally unexpected. Whenever she woke to his presence, he didn't know what to expect- it was different every time, which was very much in accord with her personality. Sometimes, she just sobbed, and let him hold her close to comfort her. Other times, she was angry: whether it was at him or the world (and by the world, of course, it was the FBI). On one occasion, she began struggling to call the authorities and have him arrested. But then there was that one time that she woke up in an entirely different state.

She had confessed to him, in great detail, how she felt about him, really. Her words, spoken as a confession, turned him on. He knew that these were repressed emotions, ones that he doubted she had ever actually admitted to herself. But the knowledge that they were there excited him. He knew that he shouldn't do it; shouldn't _let _her, but her eyes begged him to make her love to her, just this once. And when she voiced the very thought that had been running through his own mind- that this would most likely be their only opportunity to ever be together, he gave in.

He was gentle with her, gentler than he had ever been with any lover. It was because of her physical state- he didn't want to tear her stitches; and her mental state- because of the drugs; but it was also because he didn't want to waste this moment. He committed every inch of her glorious skin to his memory, as he slowly moved over her body. She seemed more lucid than she had ever been during this whole ordeal, as she responded to his caresses and when she reached her climax, crying out his given name for the first time, it was the sweetest he had ever tasted. Even now, the recollection of her scent was enough to make him long for her, long to possess again.

It didn't surprise him when she awoke later, and upon not finding him there, called the police and tried to apprehend him. He did not expect, however, her cold reaction to his kiss, his desperation to taste her one last time before he departed... that was how he knew she couldn't have remembered the event, along with her words. And the handcuffs. He didn't hesitate in his decision to severe his hand. Losing a hand was better than losing his life, for sure. But it was in that action, more than anything, that he revealed to her just how much she meant to him- he couldn't think of anyone else in the world he'd be willing to sacrifice himself for, other than his sister, once upon a time.

Abruptly, Hannibal turned his thoughts back to the present. Here she was, in Florence. The presence of the baby complicated things. He knew she was smart enough to realize that he'd never forcefully take her, and her decision to presumably put his name on the birth certificate meant that she must have come to terms with it. It was beyond him, however, to even venture a guess as to what those terms were. He supposed that she would have every right to be angry with him, for even though it wasn't his idea, and even if she had come to remember the event, she could still think of it as him taking advantage of her. So before he proceeded with contacting her, he decided to do first what he did best- follow her.

Her demeanor at the Belvedere gave him the distinct impression that it was a place she frequented often. Rather than wander the streets in search of her and risking her discovering him, he decided that staking out the Belvedere was his best move. He woke early the next morning, prepared himself, and went back to the Belvedere. He found a hidden place to settle into, one where she'd never see him. And sure enough, she came.

It wasn't soon, not soon at all. Unlike the previous day, where she came in the morning, Clarice didn't arrive until almost sunset today. It had been a long day waiting for her, but his unending patience paid off. He waited until she left, and then stealthily followed her.

When she got on the bus, he saw that this might be more difficult than he had anticipated. There was no other way to keep up with the bus than actually to be on it, since he had no other means of transportation near by, and he knew how risky that would be. He made the call- there were enough people on the bus; he waited until she settled into a seat and went himself to the opposite end of the bus, and as the locals do, he did not pay his way. Although he found this rather distasteful, he had no other option at the present time. Her back was to him, so he was able to watch her with ample opportunity to turn around if she were to move in his direction. It did not surprise him to find that the baby had once again opened his eyes, and stared at him the entire ride.

Hannibal very cautiously got off the bus at the same stop as her. Keeping a safe distance behind, while being sure not to lose her in the rapidly darkening streets, he watched her turn into an alleyway and begin an ascent up a stone staircase. He assumed this was where she lived. It would be too risky to follow her up, and it would seem she was turning in for the night anyways. After staring into the direction where she went, he finally took his leave, and went in search of a good glass of wine.

For the next few weeks, he watched her every move. He determined that the trip to the Belvedere was done daily, which he knew was because of his influence. She spent a lot of time at the hotel, and after ascertaining some information about the owners, he managed to engage the one that spoke the least English into a conversation. He learned that this darling American had come to the hotel some four months prior now, and had begun working for them just recently. This knowledge made him smirk with amusement. The owner unknowingly gave up her room number, claiming that he tried to get her to move into a bigger room and she refused. Hannibal was quite satisfied.

Late at night, he would pick the locks to get into the hotel, and wait in the darkness and in the silence for whoever was at the desk overnight to leave to use the bathroom. The stand alone bathroom was at the end of the hallway to the left; Clarice's room was at the end of the right hallway. For each person- the owner, his wife, and their adult son, he timed how long it took them before they returned to the front desk. It wasn't long before he discovered that the adult son took the longest, and that sometimes, when a pretty American girl was staying in the hotel, he would befriend her and spend time with her in her room. It was those nights he ventured down the hallway, to stand before Clarice's door. He expertly picked the lock, and would gaze upon her sleeping form.

The room was indeed small. The bed only fit one, but more often than not, he found the baby at her side. She had a small travel clock on the nightstand, and stuff spread out over the desk- including the bassinette, when the child wasn't in it. Her suitcase was shoved away, and he assumed that her clothes were in the drawers. The bathroom was tiny, as most European bathrooms are, and she kept the light on with the door mostly shut. A double purpose, he deduced- with the light came the fan, which lulled her to sleep, and the light from the door was enough to make her feel safe. There was a small balcony in the room, with just enough room to step out on it and look over the rooftops.

Once, he ventured closer than the doorway, and knelt quietly beside the bed. He touched the head of the child softly before brushing his lips over Clarice's forehead. Before he could think about what it did to him to be so close to her, he left.


	7. Chapter 7: Clarice

_Clarice_

Life was still good. Leonardo was a joy, although a handful, and Clarice found time every day to enjoy the city despite her work at the hotel. This feeling of content was one she had never experienced. The only thing lacking, she thought to herself, was Dr. Lecter. Funny for her to think of him like that, even now, after all they'd been through... but it didn't seem right to think otherwise without his permission. Although he wasn't physically here with her, the presence of him that she felt was enough, for now; yet she missed him desperately. The need to see him again burned heavily in her heart, all the while knowing that she may be destined for a life without ever having that chance again.

At 7 months, Leonardo was constantly moving and hard to keep track of. Clarice's paranoia had somewhat subsided; she trusted the owners of the hotel, who let him crawl around the hallway while she worked. She got to know the guests, and everyone loved her baby. They bought him toys to play with and entertained him with stories and songs while she worked. Yes, it was quite a lovely arrangement. And every person who came in contact with Leonardo was unable to refrain from commenting on his unique, lovely, pale blue eyes.

Clarice never watched the news. She was away from that world now, and wanted nothing to do with it anymore. This would prove to be rather unfortunate.

Currently plaguing the city was a band of gypsies who had graduated from begging and pick-pocketing to more serious offenses. Tourists, dazzled by the city, would turn for a mere moment to find their children gone. Sometimes it would happen while they were looking elsewhere, sometimes a gypsy would distract the parents by offering them flowers, or begging money from them, while their partner snuck up from behind and took a child. The older children were certainly sold, for what horrid purposes even the news didn't venture to guess. Most of the babies taken were then raised as gypsies, and used to gain the sympathy of those they were begging money from, as they did so often. Sometimes, they had even followed a family into a hotel, ready to snatch a child in the confusion of finding a key and bringing their purchases inside. This was especially beneficial with larger families.

On this particular day, a gypsy, tired out from his exploits, stumbled upon Clarice's hotel, and begged the owner's wife permission to use the bathroom. His intentions were purely that, and she, being a nice woman, and feeling bad for the man, allowed him. On his way down the hall, he noticed an American, acting as a maid, cleaning one of the rooms. The hotel was mostly empty, other than these few characters, for it was dinner time, and all were out enjoying a pleasant meal. His first thought was of taking her. She was very attractive. But then he was distracted by the babbling noise of a small child. An infant, he guessed to be 7 or 8 months old, was crawling along the floor of the room the woman was cleaning. He smiled to himself as he proceeded on to the bathroom.

While there, he thought about his best plan of action. This baby had practically fallen into his hands, and he surely wasn't going to let the opportunity get away. The woman would be distracted, and the woman at the desk was too old to possibly even begin to chase him. As luck would have it, he found a bath toy that would be perfect to lure the boy out of the room.

While he exited, he saw the woman move the cart into the adjoining room, while the child crawled behind her. He wouldn't even need the toy; he dropped it quickly before she saw and bumped into her, deliberately, while he passed her, muttering apologizes in Italian. She smiled and excused him, and went into the room. He snatched the child.

With his hand swiftly over the infant's mouth to hush the screams, he bolted through the little lobby and down the stone staircase. The owner's wife screamed obscenities to him, begging him to stop, but she had no way to catch him. Simultaneously, Clarice began screaming Leonardo's name and flew to the front desk, where the hysterical woman pointed down the stairs. She charged after him. Once in the street, though, there was no sign of Leonardo or the gypsy to be found.


	8. Chapter 8: Hannibal

_Hannibal_

What the gypsy couldn't have possibly known was how closely the American and her baby were being watched. Hannibal heard the screams first, and then saw the man charge down the stairs with the baby. The gypsy looked around anxiously before choosing which direction he would go. Hannibal knew in an instant what had happened, and followed the man. He was momentarily distracted by the appearance of Clarice in the alleyway, wailing. For the first time, he discovered the baby's given name- Leonardo. He couldn't help but to smile, ever so slightly- it was perfect. She really was a wonder, that woman. He longed to go to her, to comfort her, but he knew that he had something much more important to do now. That would all come later.

He knew Clarice had hurried back up the steps when her scent was gone. The gypsy also seemed to know this, and released his grip around the infant's mouth. Leonardo immediately started wailing, wails that matched his mother's. The gypsy shot apologetic glances to the tourists around him, and none of them suspected wrong-doing.

Hannibal thought quickly. He knew that he needed to proceed carefully. As much as he longed to attack this man, consume him for this horrible thing that he had done, he knew that he must leave no trace leading to him. He would have to depart this man without his meal. He gripped the familiar harpy in his hand. The gypsy stopped in an abandoned alleyway, one more remote than Clarice's. The gypsy assumed that the woman would have called the police by now, and he had to change the child's clothes immediately. The child wouldn't stop screaming, wouldn't stop squirming, and he wasn't able to do a thing. And then, all of a sudden, it ceased. The child was still and silent.

The corners of Hannibal's mouth upturned at this. The baby- Leonardo, he corrected himself- had given him away. He knew that he was recognized, knew that somehow, the infant knew he would protect him, and he stopped his struggle. But the gypsy was unaware of the warning. Hannibal crept up behind him. "Excuse me, sir," he said, and when the man turned, surprised, Hannibal was ready. He swiftly and efficiently sliced his throat, making sure to severe both the carotid and the jugular, and caught the baby as the man began to flail and fall backwards. A few drops of blood landed on Leonardo's face, but he didn't cry. Hannibal left the man there, bleeding, and quickly rushed to a fountain to clean the knife of his deed. Satisfied, he replaced it in his pocket.

As luck would have it, it wasn't long before some scavenger came across the body and picked it clean, too desperate to care that the man's throat was slashed in such a beastly manner. The police determined it was a mugging gone wrong, and no mention of the name Hannibal Lecter would ever be associated with the death of the gypsy.

Hannibal had never even considered the option of having children, but here, faced with his own, he was unable to control himself for the second time. He never thought he could feel such love, such a desire to protect, the tiniest of all human beings. Knowing that this child was his and Clarice's made it that much more intense. He knew that Clarice would now be struck with a dilemma. She knew she had no chance of finding Leonardo on her own, but going to the police would surely be fatal. Whether or not they found him, the information, her name, and his, would be out there, and the FBI would pick up on it in no time. He knew that she would resist calling the authorities, but eventually, would concede to their help. This little life meant everything to her, and she wouldn't risk it for anything, even if that meant being questioned by the FBI or slandering the name of one Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

He didn't have much time before she came to this decision, so he had to do this carefully. The difference a single misplaced second would make was weighted heavily. The clock within his mind began ticking away. And sitting on the steps of an old, abandoned orphanage, Hannibal took the time to get to know his son.


	9. Chapter 9: Hannibal

_Hannibal_

As much as he regretted to, Hannibal knew that time had passed on for Clarice. He knew she was very close to the point of making the decision to call the police. In the dark, now, he rapidly made his way back to the hotel, holding the baby as if it were dearer to him than all the elegance in the world, all the things that he treasured. And it was.

Hannibal picked the lock to get into the hotel, as he was so accustomed to do, and noticed immediately that the son was off in some tourist's bed. He was glad; he wouldn't have to wait. Approaching her door, he could hear her, crying. He could smell the salt from her tears in the air.

He tried the door, knowing it wouldn't be locked. Locking it would mean she was locking out her baby, giving him up to the world, locking it would mean she would have to hesitate before running out of the room to find him. He closed the door behind him, in rhythm with her sobs, and she didn't hear a thing.

Leonardo was sleeping quietly in his arms. Even his mother's tears wouldn't wake him up now; not after the day he had had. Hannibal contemplated what best to say to get her attention- it needed to be just right.

As it turned out, he never got the chance to say anything. For all her anguish, Clarice's FBI training kicked in automatically and she felt a presence in the room, at her back. Suddenly, she was silent. She rose, her back still to the door, and slowly she turned around. There he was, standing in the doorway, holding their sleeping baby boy safe within his arms.

She let out a gasp and rushed to him. Hannibal said not a word as he allowed her to take Leonardo into her arms, and wrapped his own arms instead around her waist. She didn't struggle against him; she squeezed her child tightly to her chest and gently brushed the drops of blood off his face, unfazed by how she knew they must have gotten there, and was now kissing him all over. This was a side of Clarice that Hannibal had never seen; in fact, he had doubted such a side even existed in her. But here she was, now, changed... and he found himself fond of it.

Eventually, Clarice settled. Her tears had all desisted. And when she was finally sure that this was her Leonardo, back safely in her arms, he felt her whole body relax. She looked up at him for the briefest of moments before settling her head on his shoulder with a content sigh.

This family thing, foreign as it was, was something Hannibal felt he could get used to.


	10. Chapter 10: Hannibal

_Hannibal_

It wasn't long before Clarice joined the baby in sleep. He lay her gently on the bed, still holding Leonardo, and watched over them. He wanted more than anything to take them back to his house, but he wouldn't do it without her permission, not this time.

Clarice woke after only a few hours rest. The exhaustion had taken over, but Hannibal knew it wouldn't for long. There were too many questions, too much to deal with. He had taken the chair from the desk and moved it to the side of the bed, and was sitting there watching them. He saw her first grasp at Leonardo, making sure that he was really there, really with her, before raising her eyes to him.

Silence, spanning their time apart, spread between them. Finally, Hannibal spoke.

"Hello Clarice."

"Hello, Dr. Lecter." He chuckled.

"Please... I think it high time we did away with such formalities, don't you, ex-special agent Starling?" She gulped.

"Hannibal." It came out as a whisper. It excited him to hear his name on her tongue, on her lips, the way she had spoken it once before, but only that once.

"Would you come with me, Clarice? I have a place not far from here that I think you might find more suited to your needs." She simply nodded in response.

He watched as she rose to feet, picking up Leonardo at the same time, and he watched her smile away her shock to find all of her things neatly packed away and ready to go.

"If it pleases you," he said, softly, "I can bring the car closer so you won't have far to walk. Wait here." He took her key with him; it would be easier than picking the lock to get back in. He took the bassinette on this trip. Once outside, he retrieved the car so nicely hidden away and placed the bassinette in the trunk. Luckily, the bassinette fit nicely, and he thought of an arrangement to fit her suitcase in there as well. He knew she'd be amused by the presence of the small black Smart Car, but it was the most feasible thing to venture around the city in, able to provide cover if need be, so he had been using it for the past month while watching her. He pulled it up directly to the front of the building and left it idling.

He returned to her room finding her ready. He took her suitcase in his right arm and offered out his left hand to her.

"Shall we?" She took it, and immediately felt the wrist brace that was wrapped around her hand. It was almost as though she'd forgotten. She gasped. Her hand was now trembling. Hannibal squeezed her hand lightly, as if to tell her that all was forgiven, and she relaxed.

They departed. Clarice left the key on the front desk, along with a note that she had penned for the owners while he went for the car. Hannibal managed to glance at the note, saw her written gratitude for the owners who had taken such good care of her, and her apologies for leaving so soon and without saying goodbye. Always courteous, his Clarice. Had he needed the confirmation that she planned to stay with him, it was right there before his eyes.

He led her down the dark staircase deftly, and went to open the passenger door for her before placing the suitcase in the trunk. He watched for the amusement that he knew would be on her face when she saw his vehicle, and sure enough, there it was. He chuckled lightly under his breath. He shut the trunk and joined Clarice in the car, and without a moment's hesitation, he drove off into the night.


	11. Chapter 11: Hannibal

_Hannibal_

It was a short ride to Fiesole, but Clarice struggled to remain awake. If it has been a longer ride, he supposed he would have encouraged her to sleep, but even now, they were almost there. Clarice looked in amazement as they drove up the long driveway to the house at the top of the hill. He parked the car and opened the door for her before retrieving her things.

Once inside, Hannibal considered giving her the tour, but knowing how tired she was decided against it. There was only one room set up with a bed in the house; one that he hoped to share with her, but he would be willing to take the couch for the night if it made her more comfortable. In the bedroom he placed her suitcase down and settled the bassinette. He reached into his drawer and gave her a shirt to change in to, so she wouldn't have to unpack. He took the baby gently out of her arms and held him while she changed and readied herself for bed.

Hannibal placed Leonardo into the bassinette when he heard her emerge from the bathroom. She was worn out and exhausted, but the vision of her standing before him in his shirt, with her hair around her shoulders, was more beautiful than that of a goddess. She walked to him and took his hands in hers. She looked at their joined hands for a few moments before raising her face to his and whispering,

"Thank you." He shook his head ever so slightly. It meant that she was not to thank him, that he had done nothing necessitating her thanks. It meant that now was not the time; there would be plenty of time to discuss everything, but not tonight. Clarice seemed to understand and accept this.

"Come, my dear," he responded, "it is time to sleep now." Clarice crawled under the covers obediently. Hannibal waited for a sign from her that she wanted him to occupy the space beside her. She made no such motion. He went into the bathroom himself and dressed for bed, taking off the wrist brace. It would not be needed with her. When he emerged, he found Clarice propped up on the pillows, waiting for him. She watched him expectantly, and not until he had joined her under the covers did she lie back down, resting her head upon his chest, and she fell asleep as soon as he wrapped his arms around her.

Hannibal did not fall asleep quite so quickly. He stayed awake, holding her, watching her, for hours. He heard Leonardo stir and wake up, but before he could extract himself without waking Clarice, she was out of bed and picking him up. It was just as well; clearly the child was hungry, and there wasn't anything Hannibal could do about that. Hannibal's eyes were accustomed to the dark, but Clarice's were not, so she was unaware that he was awake. She took Leonardo into bed and pulled up her shirt, revealing to him her milky white breasts, as she began to breastfeed.

Doing this was normal for Clarice, and she clearly hadn't given a second thought to Hannibal's presence beside her in the bed. The scene before him was more than arousing, it was natural, beautiful... something to be cherished, something that he knew he'd never forget.

When Leonardo had finished, Clarice cuddled up next to him, and before falling back to sleep, placed her arm around the baby to rest it on Hannibal's hip, joining the three of them. While Hannibal had slept with many women, he had never had a baby sleeping between them, but he found himself somewhat comforted by it. Again, he thought to himself, this family thing, something he had never even considered wanting, was very fulfilling. He recognized how important this moment was. It was one thing for Clarice to trust him, to know that he'd never hurt her, but entirely another for her to extend that same trust to her child. One is always more cautious with their children than they are with themselves. And just as his action at the lake house told her more than any words could express, her action now was just as meaningful, if not more, he reflected.

Once he heard the steady breathing of both mother and child, Hannibal allowed himself to sleep. Tonight, he dreamed of a little girl named Mischa, playing in the yard with Leonardo.


	12. Chapter 12: Epilogue

_Epilogue_

Hannibal and Clarice lived out the rest of their days in solitude at the house in Fiesole. They both had retired from public life, and were quite happy to do so. When Leonardo was two years old, Clarice gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, Mischa. Hannibal had finally found a way to give his sister new life- in the birth of his child, who would always honor her by wearing her name. Both Hannibal and Clarice reached a level of happiness that neither believed was possible, together, with their family.

To any passer-by, they were a perfectly normal family, living their lives.

And as strange as it was, really, they were.

But the thoughts still lurked beneath the exterior in both Hannibal and Clarice. On occasion, Clarice felt conflicted over her decisions to not turn him in, to live with him, to have his children. Hannibal always knew when she was feeling that way, and those nights, he took over her mind, body, and soul in a possession that made it clear to her that she would never be let go, never get the chance to take it all back. Sometimes, Hannibal felt the indescribable urge to feast upon the human delicacy, and most often, his thoughts turned to Clarice, wondering how she would taste as he devoured her, and if the children would enjoy dinner that night as much as he. Those nights, he was utterly violent to her, and when he bit down to make her bleed, to enjoy the blood flowing from her wound and her flesh in his mouth, it was a silent reminder that as long as she lived, he could have her whenever he desired.

~*~*~*~

A/N: An especial thanks to my faithful readers and reviewers, namely, Nina/Aldus Mischa N., Green Jewels, and kalabangsilver. It has been a pleasure.


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